I Don't Dance
by BlackthornUnicorn98
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and sixth-year Draco Malfoy is miserable. He's let himself become distracted by everything going on, and the stress is keeping him up on the snowiest night of the year. He comes upon Hermione Granger, who teaches him about her family's unique Christmas traditions, and Draco realizes that Christmas might not be so bad after all. Rated T just for safety.


**I Don't Dance: A Dramione Story**

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap._

Draco Malfoy drummed his fingers lightly on his desk, staring out his dormitory window at the giant, fluffy snowflakes falling from the sky and landing on the lawn below. The grounds of Hogwarts were covered in a thick, flawless blanket of snow, and to his knowledge, nobody had bothered to venture outside in it yet. The wind was far too cold, the snow was far too deep, and the sky was far too dark.

Tonight was Christmas Eve, a night that often consisted of parties, presents, candlelight church services, and sipping hot cocoa around a fire with one's family. Then everyone would depart and snuggle into their beds, dreaming of candy canes and sugar plums, and wake up the next morning to find all of the wonderful presents under the Christmas tree.

At least, that was how most people associated with _Muggles_ did it.

For Draco's proud, pure-blood family, it was different. Both of his parents had been logical, sensible people for as far back as he could remember. They had always believed that the typical Christmas Eve shenanigans were a complete waste of valuable time, so they never bothered with them. The most that the Malfoy family did on Christmas Eve, or Christmas Day for that matter, was have a silent, awkward meal together in the cold, dimly lit dining room, and that was that. No presents, no hot cocoa, no celebration of any kind...nothing. By his late teenage years, Draco had become so accustomed to his family's practice that he held no particular feelings of happiness or joy about the Christmas season at all. In fact, he despised it. Not only did he feel that the celebration was completely unnecessary, but he also hated the powdery snow that always seemed to magically appear around the holidays. He never really understood why some people found it so enjoyable...to him, it was miserable, uncomfortable, and cold.

Draco had never had the spirit of Christmas in his heart. He really didn't get what was so bloody special about this time of year, but one thing he did know was that if he stayed in his dormitory a minute more and listened to Crabbe's pig-like snoring and Goyle's restless tossing and turning, he was going to beat himself unconscious with his own wand. Quietly, he rose from his chair to slip on his scuffed dress shoes and dark green cloak, wrapping it tightly around himself as he left the room.

As he ascended up the stairs and out the door of the Slytherin dormitory, the cold air coming in through the windows of the corridor hit him point blank in the face. His teeth immediately began to chatter, and he forced his hood up over his head, nearly masking his face and obscuring his vision. "Bloody hell," he grumbled to himself, shoving his hands in his pockets. He couldn't imagine why anyone would want to be out in such cold weather, even if it was just to build, as the Muggles called them, 'snowmen', or throw an exuberant amount of snowballs in one another's faces, which admittedly did seem fun to him. But only a little bit.

As Draco walked briskly along, he caught sight of a figure sitting out in the deep snow and squinted. They appeared to be cloaked at first, but as he peered closer, he could clearly make out a long mane of curly brown hair and no cloak at all. However, he did notice that she-at least, he assumed she was a she-did have a checkered blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She hadn't yet bothered to wipe the accumulating snowflakes off her blanket or out of her hair. Draco shivered as he stood there, staring at her-she had to be _freezing_.

"Oi!" Draco called out, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "What are you doing, sitting out there in the cold?"

The girl turned around, and Draco immediately regretted his decision to speak up. In front of him sat none other than Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger, Hogwarts' star student with top marks in each and every class.

Hermione Granger, the flawless Gryffindor prefect who could do no wrong.

Hermione Granger, the closest friend of the so-called Chosen One, and the 'brightest witch of her age'. At least, that's what others called her.

Hermione Granger, the most insufferable know-it-all and goody-two-shoes he'd ever met.

She raised an eyebrow. "Malfoy? What in Godric's name are_ you_ doing out here?"

"Me?" Draco dramatically put his hand over his heart in mock astonishment. "I'm not the one sitting in the snow without a cloak or a coat, Granger! Or is it just your natural ambition to want to catch hypothermia?"

She rolled her eyes. "That's none of your business, now is it?"

"I suppose not, Mudblood," he muttered, noticing that she flinched at the sound of the slur. Even after six years, he thought she'd have been used to it by now. "But if I may inquire, what exactly _are_ you doing out here?"

She wrapped her blanket tighter around her shoulders. "I'm waiting for Santa Claus."

Draco had to stifle a laugh. Out of all the Muggle legends that he'd heard about over his lifetime, that one had to be the most ridiculous of them all. A fat man in a red suit flying around in a sleigh pulled by 'magic' reindeer, stuffing his flab down the chimney of every single house in the world, leaving them presents and eating all of their cookies? Foolish nonsense. And on top of that, Draco was nearly one hundred percent sure that the act qualified as breaking and entering, yet the Muggles seemed to encourage it. "Oh, come now, Granger," he grumbled. "That's childish, even for you. Surely, you don't actually believe in that sort of mumbo jumbo, do you?"

To his surprise, she smirked. "Hardly. But it comes from when I was younger, when my parents and I would sit outside on our porch until midnight on Christmas Eve, waiting for him to arrive. Of course, I would always fall asleep, and they would bring me back inside and tuck me in for the night. But it became a tradition of sorts for us. I do it every Christmas Eve, whether I'm with my family or not."

Draco nodded thoughtfully. He'd thought her a simpleton at first, but what she'd said made a lot more sense now. Coming from a no-nonsense household, he couldn't know what Christmas traditions were like to endure, but nevertheless, it left him somewhat intrigued. "I see, Granger. Christmas traditions."

She cracked a smile. "Yes. But my family's traditions are somewhat...unconventional," she admitted. "I've never met a single family who does what we do."

Draco cocked his head. He couldn't wait to hear this. _Surely, her traditions are silly and childish,_ he thought to himself. _Maybe leaving turkey for this 'Santa' instead of cookies. Or prancing around the house singing abhorrent carols about reindeer and elves and spoiled, greedy children who want an exhaustive amount of gifts to open on Christmas morning._ "Alright, Granger, color me intrigued. What do you and your family do on Christmas Eve, then?"

Hermione stood up and entered the corridor, shaking the snow out of her curly hair. "Well, we would always sit around the living room and take turns talking about the best things that happened to us during the year," she replied. "Sort of like saying what we're thankful for around Thanksgiving. I suppose it just goes to show that Christmas isn't just about materialistic items, but it's about people you love, and reflecting on the good things in life."

"Interesting," said Draco. Frankly, that sounded a bit boring for his taste, but he could see why it was so important to her. "Maybe I'll do the same with my family next Christmas."

Hermione nodded. "I'm sure that they would love that."

Draco shrugged. _They'll probably laugh right in my face._ "So, what other bizarre Christmas traditions would you care to share with me, Granger?"

"Well, sometimes we would draw Christmas pictures," she said, her cheeks turning red from slight embarrassment. "And we would always light the five candles of Advent in our living room. But that's a more common practice. A lot of churches do it."

She started walking slowly down the length of the corridor, and Draco decided to follow her, becoming readily more fascinated by the things that Hermione was telling him. "What did you draw pictures of?" he asked. "The morbidly fat man in a blood-red suit?"

Hermione shook her head. "I would always draw reindeer, actually," she said. "I decided to make a new one each year, and they all looked wildly different. I remember that one was decorated with Christmas lights, one was eating a blue cupcake, and one even had a frilly pink ballerina dress on!"

Draco chuckled. "I would very much like to see these odd creations of yours," he said. "Like I said, I am quite intrigued."

Hermione shrugged. "I keep them in my room. If you want...you can come see them."

Draco nodded without another word, and followed Hermione toward Gryffindor Tower. As they walked along, he noticed something about her that hadn't caught his attention when he'd first came upon her, sitting out in the snow alone.

She seemed extremely sad about something. Not the 'crying-her-eyes-out, sobbing, sniffly' kind of sad, and not the 'depressed, low-energy, I-don't-want-to-do-anything' kind of sad. She seemed more lonely than anything. Almost as if she had never spent a Christmas without her parents before. And as he thought about it more, he realized that each of the five years before, she would always go back home for Christmas and arrive back at Hogwarts a month later, telling everyone of her travels for the next two weeks or so. This was Hermione's very first Christmas Eve without her parents. And she had to spend it with him, the farthest possible thing from family to her. It was hard for him to truly imagine how alone she must have been feeling, but regardless, he still felt a fair bit of sympathy for her.

Swallowing his sentimentality, he looked up at the door of the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady was dozing off by the time they arrived, and Hermione whispered, "Malar Vorgunis." The Fat Lady's eyes had popped open in surprise at the sight of Draco, but she reluctantly let them both into the common room without a single word. Draco followed Hermione toward the prefects' part of the dormitory, and they slipped silently into her room.

He had to admit, it was quite strange to be in Hermione Granger's private room...alone...with her...in the middle of the night. It wasn't a situation that he had ever imagined himself being placed in, but there he was anyway. He watched her make her way over to the dresser and, after rummaging through it a bit, she produced a stack of papers. "I have to stress that I was young," she explained, handing them over. "And I don't have a creative fiber in all of my being."

Draco leafed through the stack of drawings, becoming more amused with every weird-looking reindeer he laid eyes upon. She had been right. Most of them were very strange and unconventional-looking, but he couldn't help but smile. _She must have had so much fun doing this. Wish my parents would have done things like this with me when I was younger._

"They're great."

Hermione turned away to hide the faint blush that was rapidly spreading over her cheeks. "It was one of my favorite things to do with my parents around Christmas time," she replied.

Draco set the drawings down on her dresser. "So, what else is there?" he asked. "Anymore strange Granger family holiday traditions that you're willing to divulge?"

She shrugged. "I do have one more. But-"

"Tell me what it is," Draco interrupted.

Hermione shook her head. "You'll probably think it's more pathetic than I am."

"More pathetic than you, Granger? I don't think that's possible," Draco muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say. Uh, when I was little, my father would always take my mother out dancing on Christmas Eve," she said slowly, eyeing Draco to see what his reaction would be. "And one night, I asked him if he would teach me to dance. And he did. After that, we decided to do it every Christmas Eve. The dancing was one of my favorite parts of the evening. Even more than presents."

Draco folded his arms across his chest, showing barely any visible reaction at all. "I wouldn't say it's pathetic, Granger. Just kind of...odd. Unnecessary, maybe."

"No, it's not," she replied. "It's a very enjoyable activity."

"Oh please," Draco scoffed. "It's one of the most pointless things that a person can do. Waddling around like a ballerina, having someone else spin you around until you puke. It doesn't sound fun at all. What's so special about dancing, anyway? Enlighten me, will you?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Maybe the reason you don't know is because you've never really done it before," she shot back. "Or do I have my facts wrong?"

Draco froze, and his nose twitched. _Bloody hell. She's got me._ "I simply don't have time for dancing," he replied nervously. "I have so many more important things that I could be doing. I wouldn't waste my time with such a juvenile activity. Load of rubbish, it is."

"Draco Malfoy, you really are an imbecile," Hermione grumbled. "And now you're an imbecile who's going to dance with me."

"Like hell I am," he growled, taking a step back.

Hermione kicked off her snowboots and her fuzzy, purple socks. She let a diabolical grin creep onto her face, knowing that making Draco dance would be the perfect way to torture him. She deftly stepped forward and grabbed his left hand in her right. "Too late. No getting out of this now, Ferret."

Her other hand made its way up to his shoulder, and he groaned loudly. "Fine, Granger. But if you tell anyone else about all this, I swear on the name of Salazar Slytherin that I will hex everything you own while you're sleeping and turn it into goo. And I will _not_ share the countercurse with you."

She chuckled. "I could just as well figure it out."

"Doubtful. It's a hard spell, Granger, even for you."

Hermione didn't even seem fazed. "Alright, you're on," she replied, moving Draco's other hand down to the small of her back. "Now, follow me. Step back. Now to the left. Forward, right, back…"

For the first couple of minutes, Draco was forced to admit something to himself; he was forced to admit that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, which he hated. The boy moved rather awkwardly, looked down at his shoes many times, occasionally lost his balance, and even stepped on Hermione's bare foot once by accident. He hated to admit it, but even though many people took him for a suave and debonair person, a Casanova of sorts, he was much clumsier than he looked. But as time went on, and he began to get the hang of the rhythm and the movements, an unusual feeling of calmness took him over. And of course, he would never admit this to _her_, but he was actually starting to enjoy himself. Only a little.

"There you go," Hermione said softly, continuing with her own graceful movements. "It's not so bad, now is it?"

"Of course not," he replied snarkily. "It's agonizing. Utterly brutal. Repulsive, in fact."

Hermione groaned. "Malfoy, must you always be so cynical? Have fun for once in your life." And she brought his arm up over their heads, twirling him around a couple of times. The utterly stunned look etched on Draco's pale face as she brought him back in toward her again told her that she had taken him by complete and total surprise. And she was extremely pleased with herself for it.

They continued to sway together, perfectly in time with each other's movements. And the longer they danced, the more comfortable Draco became and the more his uneasiness faded away. At one point, he even decided to try what Hermione had done, and spun her around a few times. She giggled melodically to herself, which was something that he had never heard her do before, and she leaned into him for balance, continuing to move with the grace of a cat. As Draco looked around the room, trying to concentrate on his movements and not on the sweet, peach-and-vanilla smell of her hair, he heard Hermione's soft voice in his ear.

_Saying everything without making a sound_

_River rolling in the background, underneath the harvest moon_

_Standing on your shoes in my bare feet_

_Dancing to the rhythm of your heartbeat_

The sweet, tonal quality in her voice surprised him. "I didn't know you sang, Granger," he murmured. "You're a natural."

"I don't sing," she replied. "Not usually. But if we're dancing, we should have some music."

Draco smirked, and before he even knew what he was doing, he started to sing himself. It was some song from the Muggle world, one that a Hufflepuff boy had been singing nonstop one day during Potions class. It had irritated Draco to the point of nearly hexing the boy into oblivion back then, but he found the song fitting for the situation he was currently in.

_I don't dance, but here I am_

_Spinning you round and round in circles_

_It ain't my style, but I don't care_

_I'd do anything with you, anywhere_

_Yeah, you've got me in the palm of your hand, girl_

'_Cause I don't dance_

Though the act of Draco singing softly in her ear took her by surprise, Hermione didn't say a single word. Instead, she closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest, continuing to sway to the lyrics and listening to the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart. In all of her years at Hogwarts, she could have never imagined spending Christmas Eve with Draco Malfoy of all people, box-stepping around her room in the middle of the night and singing country songs that only a handful of Muggles actually listened to. And she was sure that it wasn't the Christmas Eve he'd had in mind either, but regardless, he didn't seem to care. Or, if he did, he wasn't going to bother saying anything.

After an unknown amount of time had passed, Draco stopped singing and began to pull away from Hermione. "I...I should get going," he mumbled.

Without his warm embrace, she began to shiver. "Something to do, have you?" she inquired. "Draco, it's nearly midnight. What on Earth do you have to do at midnight…on a Saturday? Would you mind explaining that bit to me?"

Draco gazed guiltily at her. He had a reason for leaving, but it sure as hell wasn't what she would think. He didn't tell her he needed to go because he had something better to do instead. It wasn't because of that. No, it was something else entirely.

Draco was feeling an odd sense of contentment and desire that he'd never experienced before, and he was feeling it toward_ her._ A Mudblood. A girl of no importance to him. A girl who, if he were a couple of years younger, he would have liked to see drown at the bottom of the Black Lake during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. A girl that he had desperately hoped would be taken by Slytherin's Basilisk down into the legendary Chamber of Secrets. They'd been at each other's throats since they first met so many years before, expressing what could only be described as pure, undeniable hatred toward one another for as long as they had attended Hogwarts together. And he had always been taught to despise every last Muggle-born witch and wizard, just like Salazar Slytherin, to hate them with everything that he had. But what scared him most was that, although he could easily bring himself to hate any _other_ Muggle-born witch or wizard that he had laid eyes on, he found that he couldn't hate _her_.

At least, not completely.

If his father only knew that he was beginning to feel some sort of...attraction, if one could even call it that, to the curly-haired witch, Draco predicted that he would be beaten to a bloody pulp for dishonoring the Malfoy name. He knew it wasn't proper. He was crossing the line into traitor territory, and with the task Lord Voldemort had entrusted to him, he couldn't bring himself to get close to anyone. Especially not someone like Hermione Granger.

"I just have to go!" he exploded, roughly pushing past Hermione and leaving her behind. She regarded him with confusion for a moment, before fuming to herself and racing after him.

As Draco strode briskly out of the Gryffindor common room and down the chilly corridor, Hermione's far-off voice called out to him desperately as she ran to catch up. "Draco, please wait! What just happened?"

"Nothing," he growled. "Nothing happened. Now, I would appreciate it if you would leave me alone, Granger. Or I swear on my life, I'll hex you."

Hermione skidded to an abrupt halt. "Draco Malfoy, you truly are a stubborn git!" she shouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I thought that maybe some part of you had changed. Became more decent, even. But I suppose I was wrong."

"Yes," Draco hollered, refusing to look back at her. "Suppose you were."

"Go to hell!" Hermione screamed.

At that, Draco turned around. "_Go_ to hell? Blimey, Granger, I'm already in hell!"

"What are you talking about? Hogwarts is _not_ hell!" Hermione exclaimed. "Hogwarts is a place of learning, magic, and companionship. It is a place where one is made to feel safe, secure, and protected! People care for each other here. But it's not like you'd understand. You don't care about _anything_."

Draco angrily walked right up to her, staring into her brown, almond-shaped eyes. "Granger, wake up! Wake up, and maybe you'll find that Hogwarts isn't the safe haven for everybody that you think it is. For some people, it gets worse every day. Stop living in your little fantasy world, and come back to the realm of reality. And for the love of all that is pure in the world, try to grow up and don't be such a child."

Hermione stared defiantly back at him. "I'm not interested in hearing your pity story, Malfoy," she snapped. "If you had a real problem with Hogwarts, then why have you come back year after year? Why don't you answer me that?"

"I didn't have a choice!" Draco protested. "When you're in as deep as I am, you have no say in anything! No free will left."

At his words, Hermione raised an eyebrow, and her voice softened. "Wait a moment, Malfoy. What did you mean about being in deep? Do you mean...trapped? Were you being threatened by someone?"

Draco sighed, desperately wishing he could just Apparate right out of the corridor and away from the annoyingly persistent witch. "I have to do something, Granger," he mumbled. "A job. For someone else. And I have no way out. But don't ask me anything about it, because I won't tell you. I...I can't."

Hermione frowned. She'd had her suspicions about Draco for a very long time, some really serious ones at that. But she wasn't the only one...Harry had voiced his own concerns as well, and Ron naturally thought they were both crazy to think what they did. She had never exactly wanted to speak to Draco directly about the matter, but now her suspicions were nagging at her, urging her. And against her better judgement, Hermione gently touched his left forearm. "Malfoy, need I ask what's under your sleeve?"

He twitched and yanked his arm away, and Hermione's worst fears were all but confirmed. "Don't you dare touch me," he snarled, angry tears pooling in the corners of his dark eyes.

"_Draco_," Hermione said softly. "You don't have to be a part of all this. You're...you're sixteen years old. You're still a child. I can see that this is far too much stress for you to have on your shoulders."

"He trusts me!" retorted Draco. "I was chosen!"

"You can't trust the Dark Lord," Hermione said, pain welling up inside of her. "It's that simple. And Draco, hear me when I say this. None of this is worth it. You're in a great deal of pain, that much is clear to me. Why would you continue with whatever this is that's causing you such grief?"

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's a bit harder to get your knickers out of a problem when your mentor has made an Unbreakable Vow to make sure you see it through," he groaned bitterly.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Draco. What has the Dark Lord asked you to do?" she implored. "What does he want with you?"

Draco's tears were flowing freely now, and he shook his head violently. "I can't. No. The Dark Lord...he'll kill me. He'll kill me if I don't go through with it. And my father. I can't disappoint my father. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to harm anyone else, but-" He couldn't continue and simply dropped to his knees, weeping softly.

For the very first time in her life, Hermione Granger began to pity Draco Malfoy. Seeing him there, helplessly crying at her feet, with the weight of his world crushing down on him, made her realize that although he could be stubborn and hardheaded and ultimately impossible to deal with at the best of times, he also had weaknesses that he tried to hide from the world. And he was so vulnerable. So broken. She wasn't quite sure what to do, so she knelt down in front of him and spoke in a hushed voice. "Draco. Stop. You needn't worry yourself about all of this tonight. It's Christmas Eve, and this is a time for celebration, not tears."

Draco raised his head to look at her, a lock of blonde hair falling into his eyes. "Maybe you're not as insufferable as I thought, Granger," he muttered.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Ferret," she replied back.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Draco's pale lips, and before he even processed what he was doing, he leaned forward and gently kissed her. To say that his action caught Hermione completely off guard was a vast understatement, but she wasn't about to stop him or ask him what had prompted his sudden desire to lock lips with her. As her eyes fell shut, she noted that he tasted slightly like peppermint, and his lips were quite soft and gentle...exactly what she _hadn't_ expected. It wasn't like she'd _thought_ about what kissing him would be like. It was all very unexpected. But pleasant, nonetheless.

His lips moved slowly and seductively over hers, and his strong hand gently caressed her cheek, nearly making her swoon. But she was Hermione Granger...she wouldn't lose her composure _that_ easily. Her hand rested itself on top of his, and after a moment that seemed to last forever, she reluctantly broke the kiss. Draco's eyes opened slowly, and Hermione could see a slight change in his expression. He almost seemed to be at peace; he no longer looked like the helpless, tormented boy that she'd witnessed breaking down in front of her only a few moments before.

Draco stood shakily. "I-I'm sorry, Granger. I'm not exactly sure w-what that was," he managed to stammer.

Hermione only nodded. "You know, Draco, it's usually only under the mistletoe that people who aren't involved have to kiss around Christmas time," she teased.

He shrugged. "I've never been one for tradition."

"Obviously." She let a faint, warm smile appear on her face and tugged at his shirt sleeve. "Now, come on, Ferret."

"Where are we going?" Draco asked, still in a slight daze.

Hermione shot him a playful glare, as if she expected him to be able to read her mind. "Where do you think we're going? My room. I wasn't quite finished with the dancing lesson. And that was all your fault, I believe."

Draco pouted, but inside, he was ecstatic. "Granger, you know I don't dance," he groaned.

"And I don't care," Hermione replied. "You're coming to dance with me, _Draco_."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine..._Hermione._"

And she dragged him mercilessly off toward the Gryffindor dormitory once more for a dancing lesson, faint smiles on the faces of both the Gryffindor princess and her Slytherin prince.

After that night, Draco and Hermione began to see one another in a different light. Their usual sarcastic banter continued nonetheless, but as the days dragged on, Draco began to see a different, more emotion-driven side of Hermione that not a lot of people knew existed. He saw that there was much more to her than just her knowledgeable exterior and her annoying 'I'm right and you're wrong' attitude. She happened to love writing poetry, and even decided to let Draco read some of her private work.

In addition, Hermione was introduced to a softer, more sensitive side of Draco Malfoy that he would express only for her. It didn't make him any less of a prat, but she started to understand him as a person much more than she had in previous years. And he began to confide in her about secrets that nobody else knew, not even his best friend, the odd Zabini boy. His secret task remained a mystery to her, though, and he would always make it abundantly clear that he was never going to divulge it to her.

As winter passed and slowly turned into spring, Hermione's closer friends began to suspect that something more was going on between her and Draco. They didn't look at each other with nearly as much animosity as they had before, and Draco hadn't called her 'Mudblood' in weeks. They even seemed to be on a first-name basis some of the time, which wasn't exactly something that the people close to them were used to. Ron Weasley voiced his concerns to Harry Potter, who agreed that something more than just the dynamic between the Malfoy boy and their best friend had clearly changed...but figuring out exactly _what_ had changed was going to be its own monster of an undertaking; Hermione and Draco were both very private people. Nevertheless, Ron seethed with anger, his hatred of Draco becoming more and more apparent the more he watched the pair's interactions with one another.

By the end of the school year, Draco and Hermione's relationship had blossomed beyond simply being classmates, fellow prefects, and friends. It had become something more, something that no one could have foreseen, no matter how much Divination they studied. But, though neither of them wanted to admit it, with the progression of their relationship came a slew of complications in turn. As spring came to an end, Hermione noticed that Draco was slowly becoming more distant, and it killed her not to know why. He stopped opening up to her, refused to dance with her in Gryffindor Tower, and they no longer sought one another out for their usual walks in the moonlight or secret trips to Hogsmeade. It was all simply gone.

And Hermione Granger became afraid. She began to fear that she was losing him to whatever dark thoughts had plagued his tortured mind from the start of the year, and helplessness overtook her. She was utterly unsure of what to do and how to help him. But her worries came to a peak at the beginning of June, the very last time she saw Draco before she left Hogwarts for good to help Harry and Ron hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes.

Harry and Dumbledore had just arrived back at the Astronomy Tower after finding what they thought was Voldemort's third Horcrux, a green-tinted locket that had once belonged to Salazar Slytherin. Dumbledore was visibly vulnerable and weak, and had instructed Harry to hide himself below for reasons that only the old wizard himself knew. Hermione and Harry had crossed paths below, being that Harry had asked her to wait in the Tower until he and Dumbledore returned, in case they required her assistance.

Hermione clutched Harry's arm as they watched the Headmaster from below. "Harry, are you alright? Are you hurt?" she whispered urgently.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, Hermione, I'm fine," he replied. "But we have to stay hidden. Dumbledore's orders."

A creak from above caught the attention of both sixth-years, and Hermione was utterly horrified to see the figure of Draco, clad in all black with his wand held straight out in front him, coming into view. He wore a stony expression on his pale face, but there was something about him that seemed broken. Regretful.

"Good evening, Draco," Dumbledore said calmly, as if nothing was wrong at all. "What brings you here on this fine spring evening?"

"Who else is here?! I heard you talking!" Draco growled, a shaky edge evident in his voice.

As Dumbledore proceeded to explain his habit of talking to himself, Harry turned to Hermione. "If that treacherous, pathetic little bleeder makes a single move, I can't promise I'll stay put," he murmured, clenching his fists.

Hermione's hand curled around Harry's wrist. "You must stay! You said so yourself. Dumbledore ordered you not to interfere!" she argued.

Harry wrenched his hand away. "Hermione, you can't expect me to just sit here!"

"Yes, and you must!" she whispered. "Harry, listen to me. You don't know what Draco's planning. And you can't just go jumping to conclusions, either."

"He's been on Voldemort's side from the beginning!" muttered Harry. "Can't you see it, Hermione? He's one of them!"

Hermione looked up through the cracks in the floor. She heard Draco hiss, "He trusts me! I was chosen!" before revealing that he did, in fact, bear the Dark Mark upon his left forearm. A familiar feeling of nausea welled up within Hermione, and she thought back to the night of their first dance, their first kiss. Draco had seemed so pained, so tormented...but she had managed to bring him out of his agonizing thoughts, if only for a while. At that very moment, she longed for nothing more than to jump up through the floorboards and throw her arms around him, to tell him that everything would work out in the end. And it broke her heart into a million pieces to know that she couldn't do it.

"Don't you understand?" Draco cried desperately, his voice crackling as he broke down in tears. "I have to do this! I have to kill you...or he's going to kill me." His hands began to shake violently, nearly letting go of his wand in the process.

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. As the soft, threatening growl of Fenrir Greyback and the haughty cackle of Draco's aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, reached her ears, she scrambled past Harry and stepped up onto the staircase, barely visible to anyone else. Harry urgently whispered for her to stay out of sight, but Hermione ignored him. She heard Bellatrix whisper softly in Draco's ear and begin mockingly conversing with an injured Dumbledore, but not once did Hermione tear her eyes away from Draco. She didn't notice the confused look that Dumbledore gave her as he saw her emerge from below; she didn't see Harry trying to get her attention, imploring her to go back to her hiding spot; she didn't spot a silent Severus Snape, skulking up the stairs and approaching Draco from behind.

"This is your moment! Do it! Come on, Draco. Now!" Bellatrix snarled, her voice rising with every word she spat. Draco quivered with fear for a few seconds before his eyes finally fell on Hermione, who was silently pleading with him not to go through with the deadly act. She knew that he couldn't do it, but unlike what Greyback had thought, it wasn't because he couldn't stomach it. Hermione knew that Draco was an intelligent, moral person as a whole, deep down, and he knew that killing Dumbledore wasn't right. He was inwardly too good of a person to commit such a violent and despicable crime, especially against his own Headmaster.

The desperate tears streaming from Draco's grey eyes made Hermione's heart ache, and she had to force herself to stay right where she was. "Draco, don't do this. Please," she whispered, imploring him as best she could. A defeated look fell over his pointed features, as if he was seriously re-considering what he was about to do. Draco fixated his gaze solely on Hermione for a moment, barely realizing that Snape had gently pushed him to the side and drawn his own wand from the folds of his robes. Draco took a step toward the worried Gryffindor in a last-ditch plea for help, his eyes swimming with guilt. The floorboards creaked underneath his feet, but before he could take another step, the quiet, decrepit voice of Dumbledore found its way to everyone's ears.

"Severus. Please."

Hermione and Draco broke their gazes on one another, looking back at the powerful wizard who stood by the balcony. He looked incredibly ghastly, exhausted, and oddly enough, much older than he actually was. There was a despairing look in the bright blue eyes that normally twinkled with happiness and the joy of pure knowledge. The old man seemed as though he could collapse any minute, and Snape slowly raised his wand. "_Avada Kedavra._"

Hermione's hands flew to her mouth as Snape icily spoke the chilling, yet extraordinarily famous incantation, and the most celebrated Hogwarts Headmaster in all of the school's' history was knocked off his feet by a green burst of light. She watched in shock as he descended from the Astronomy Tower toward the ground, practically in slow motion...dead. Draco was equally shocked by Snape's actions, but had barely any time to react before the Potions Master himself yanked on Draco's arm and began to drag him away. Hermione tried to jump up to help him, but Harry's strong grip managed to hold her back. She writhed and struggled against him, muttering obscenities under her breath and crying freely, but Harry continued to hold her in place, quietly begging her not to scream as Draco was hauled away.

Eventually her grunts and curses were reduced to dry, shuddering sobs, and Harry let go of her, knowing that she wasn't going to do anything rash. He took off down the stairs, presumably to antagonize Snape for killing his mentor, and Hermione collapsed on the floor, knowing that there was nothing she could do to bring Draco back to her.

After that night, Hermione didn't look for Draco anymore. She never again sought him out. She never made any further attempt to contact him, and instead decided to focus her energy and her time on helping Harry and Ron find the Horcruxes that would eventually lead to Lord Voldemort's long-awaited downfall. Although, a small part of her did occasionally wonder if Draco wanted to see her again. Or...if he even missed her. She highly doubted it, but never explicitly told herself otherwise.

The next several months went by slowly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione traveled day and night together, determined to find the Horcruxes, destroy them, and bring Voldemort down forever. Along the way, they encountered dim-witted Snatchers in the woods, Voldemort's snake in Godric's Hollow, Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic, the sword of Godric Gryffindor in a forest that Hermione had once traveled to, Luna Lovegood's eccentric and traitorous father, and eventually, Malfoy Manor of all places.

Hermione saw Draco only twice more, from the night Snape killed Dumbledore to the day Harry defeated Voldemort. Draco was present at Malfoy Manor when Bellatrix interrogated the three former students, as well as a Gringotts goblin, about the sword that they had come to possess in a moment of need. Draco nearly broke ranks with the Death Eaters that night as he listened to Bellatrix's threats and Hermione's agonizing screams that filled the entire Manor. He refused to identify Harry to his father, in hopes that Hermione and the others would be able to escape safely. And he pushed Hermione out of the way of the chandelier that Dobby unscrewed and let fall, in a vain attempt to hurt Bellatrix. After Hermione managed to Disapparate, along with her friends, Draco had no way of knowing for sure what happened to her.

The last time Hermione and Draco ever saw one another was during the Battle of Hogwarts, when Voldemort decided to prance around in front of the entire school, mercilessly taunting them all about Harry's alleged death. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy pleaded with Draco to join them, and he stood back hesitantly for just a moment. Hermione silently willed him to refuse, and as he locked eyes with her across the crowd, there was a brief second during which he actually considered it. But his mother's pleading voice ultimately won him over, and as Hermione watched him amble toward his parents, he shot one last sorrowful glance at her and mouthed the words, "I'm sorry." Her eyes filled with tears as he disappeared into the huge group of Death Eaters with his mother and father, and in that moment, she only wanted one thing.

To share a dance with him. One last time.

**A/N: I truly hope you guys enjoyed this one! This was my first story that I've published on this website, and I gotta say, I was a little nervous. Please rate, review, comment, pm me, anything! I'm open to hearing your opinions and what you have to say about it! Happy reading!**

**-BlackthornUnicorn98**


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